


the world will always be there (and so will i)

by KataraYue



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Kuroo Tetsurou-centric, Kuroo is whipped, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27659296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KataraYue/pseuds/KataraYue
Summary: Kuroo connects them, he's the subtle pull keeping them together when everything pushes them apart, the gentle yet firm backbone of their relationship.And maybe, just maybe, Kuroo thinks that if Bokuto burns like the sun in the summer sky, if Akaashi reminds him of the autumn leaves falling from the trees, if Tsukishima is the harsh and unforgiving winter coated with snow that makes everything look like cotton candy, then Kuroo might be the spring wind, bringing comfort and change with him, threading the seasons together.——Or four conversations, and Kuroo happens to be at the center of all of them.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Akaashi Keiji/Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou, Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 28
Kudos: 218





	the world will always be there (and so will i)

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was supposed to be posted for bakt week but what can i say i'm a slow writer
> 
> i want to thank deeply my friends for putting up with me while i was writing, because i sure complained a lot, and a very special thanks to [nera](https://twitter.com/tsukichuus) who helped me a lot by beta-reading this!! thank you so so much ❤

_summer._

The room is mostly silent aside from the deafening sound of the cicadas outside, but it’s been a constant since the beginning of summer, so Kuroo barely notices it anymore. It’s actually the fact that he can perfectly hear the cicadas when he’s in the same room as Bokuto that is worrisome.

Kuroo takes his eyes away from his textbooks to look at Bokuto. He’s lying down on the floor, right behind where Kuroo is sitting. For a few seconds Kuroo wonders if he fell asleep, but his friend seems to sense his gaze on him and opens his eyes, staring directly at him. Black and grey strands of hair fall down on his face, slightly wet because of the sweat, softening the intensity of his golden eyes. The edges of his face also seem less sharp, basked in the light filtering through their thin curtains.

Slowly, Kuroo brings his hand to the ungelled hair and slides it back up gently, getting the hair out of Bokuto’s face. He chuckles softly when Bokuto closes his eyes again at the contact. “You should study if you’re not sleeping, you still have classes you know,” he says, his hand still going through Bokuto’s hair.

In response, Bokuto groans, rolling on his side to face Kuroo better. “It’s summer break, leave me alone,” Bokuto complains. “I couldn’t do it anyway, I think my brain is melting. Dunno how you can study in this heat.”

Kuroo refrains from telling him he can’t focus either and has been reading the same page for almost an hour now, and flicks him on the forehead instead, proud of his effect when Bokuto groans again and shifts to lie on his back, in his initial position, an arm loosely wrapped around Kuroo’s waist. It’s distracting, but not as distracting as the heat in their room, Kuroo feels like he’s about to start _boiling._

They fall back in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Bokuto saving up his energy, but soon enough he opens his mouth again, apparently unable to stay quiet for so long.

“What if,” Bokuto starts at an incredibly slow pace, like talking is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, “we left Tokyo, just the two of us,” and Kuroo almost immediately tells him yes right there, he’d do anything to escape Tokyo at this moment. “We leave, and we go into the mountains, far into the mountains,” Bokuto says dreamily, looking at the ceiling like he’s found the meaning of life. Kuroo suspects neither of them will survive the heat. “Then we find a cave, like a really nice cave, with a nice view and all. And then—” Bokuto takes a deep breath, “And then, we hibernate till winter.”

Kuroo considers telling him yes, he really does, but someone has to be the responsible one in this friendship. “Sounds like a plan, but Tsukki would kill us for abandoning him on the team,” he says with a sigh. Hibernating with Bokuto sounds like a far better option than sweating his ass off in a gym with a broken AC.

“Shit you’re right,” Bokuto breathes out. He pauses for a second, and Kuroo tries to focus once again on his textbooks. He fails lamentably. “Then we take him with us! Just the three of us, in a nice cave, sleeping through the heatwave.”

Kuroo’s skin is on fire where Bokuto touches him, his tank top damped with sweat, and he’s pretty sure his forearms started melting at some point, because they’re definitely glued to the coffee table he’s leaning on. He sighs one more time, there’s nothing he wants more than to say yes to Bokuto.

Instead, he curses his brain for still being rational and says, “If we do that, it’ll probably be the three of us for the rest of our lives. I don’t think Akaashi would survive this long being left unsupervised with an unlimited amount of coffee.”

Bokuto simply laughs at his comment before falling silent again, but he’s started drawing abstract patterns on Kuroo’s stomach, each brush of fingertips sending jolts of electricity on his skin. 

“What if we filled the bathtub with ice cubes?” Bokuto asks out of nowhere, making Kuroo laugh.

“That’s just stupid.”

“It’s not! And I’m sure it’s big enough for both of us!”

“Don’t you think,” Kuroo starts, taking his arms off the table to lean over Bokuto, hands planted on either side of Bokuto’s head, a glint of mischief in his eyes. When he looks at him from above like that, Kuroo notices how Bokuto’s eyes somehow seem so much brighter, casted in the shadow of Kuroo’s body hovering him. “That we’d probably be less hot if you stopped clinging to me?”

Almost immediately, Bokuto loses his surprised expression, his face mirroring Kuroo’s teasing tone as he lets a big grin spread across his lips. “We can’t be _less_ hot,” he simply says, barely holding back his laughter.

Kuroo rolls his eyes above him and it’s enough for Bokuto to lose his composure, loudly laughing in his ears. Kuroo starts to move again with the intention of getting back to his textbooks, but Bokuto doesn’t seem to agree with that. He feels powerful arms wrapping around his middle, lifting him up from the ground with almost no effort. He has no time to find it impressive, especially considering that Bokuto is still laying on the floor, before he feels his body shift in the air. He heavily falls on his back, on top of Bokuto, strong arms still encircling him.

“Better?” Bokuto asks in his neck, the smile evident in his tone.

Kuroo huffs and tries to get out of Bokuto’s arms, the sensation of his damp skin sticking to Bokuto’s more than uncomfortable. “That’s obviously worse,” he says, and Bokuto laughs again as he releases the hold he had on his waist, gently letting Kuroo slide on the floor, even farther away from the coffee table.

“I was studying,” Kuroo complains halfheartedly, but he doesn’t make any move to get back to it, content with just laying on his back next to Bokuto and observing the ceiling.

“No, you were pretending to study,” Bokuto counters, his head lolling to the side to look at Kuroo’s face.

Kuroo snorts at that but doesn’t even try to argue with the truth. Despite how uncomfortable it was, he finds himself missing the warmth of Bokuto’s body against his own. He doesn’t need to look to feel Bokuto’s eyes still on him, to feel his presence, so close that he knows it’d take almost nothing to close the gap. He wants to reach, to touch Bokuto’s skin again, to look into his eyes and feel the now familiar tug at his heart, but like he often does, Bokuto gives him what he’s craving before Kuroo can even ask for it. He feels a steady hand slip into his own, no trace of hesitancy in the movement, and Kuroo smiles as Bokuto intertwines their fingers.

It’s always been like this with Bokuto. There’s no knuckles brushing together as they walk in the street, probably closer than friends would. There’s no longing, no hesitation, no time for Kuroo to analyze if he should take Bokuto’s hand. Pinkies don’t graze each other with each step, Kuroo doesn’t feel Bokuto’s warmth next to him, so close yet so out of reach. With Bokuto, there’s none of this, but there’s a calloused hand tightly gripping his own, with all the certainty in the world, there’s raucous laughter as he drags him along, smiling and laughing like a child. Bokuto hugs him, keeps him close, he takes his hand without even thinking about it and sweeps Kuroo off his feet every second, so much that Kuroo has no other choice but to go along, to dive in this feeling of freedom. It makes him feel invincible.

And even in their tiny dorm room, with their pretty much useless fan slowly moving around the thick, hot summer air, lying on his back and looking at the ceiling with Bokuto’s hand in his own, Kuroo still thinks the same thing.

Kuroo has known many loves in the last few years of his life. He’s learned to love many different people, in many different ways, and he’s fallen in love many times, but he thinks, when he looks at him from the corner of his eyes, that there’s really no one else like Bokuto Koutarou. 

He looks at him and sees the radiant sun in the summer sky, burning so high he should be out of reach, but so bright he seems to chase away every patch of shadow by his very presence, his light so incredibly _alive._ Bokuto loves like he breathes, like loving is the easiest thing on Earth for him. He loves with everything he is and everything he has, and he finds strength in it, embracing every single feeling and emotion he can feel, wearing them proudly for the whole world to see. Bokuto wears love like a second skin, like he’s never afraid of anything, to the point that Kuroo wonders if it’s even possible for Bokuto not to love, not to feel things at 120%. He figured long ago that it’s probably not, and Kuroo wouldn’t want it any other way, Bokuto wouldn’t be Bokuto without his unabashed love for the world.

Kuroo couldn’t say how long they stay like this, Bokuto’s thumb stroking his skin, with only the sound of the cicadas, their old fan and Kuroo’s own heartbeat to disturb the comfortable silence of the room, but when he hears Bokuto inhale next to him, he smiles to himself and closes his eyes. Bokuto had never been one to stay silent for too long.

“Kuroo?” Bokuto tries, his voice calm and pensive but as confident as it always is. Kuroo only hums in response, refusing to open his eyes just yet. Bokuto seems to get it. “Can we talk?” he adds and Kuroo feels him shift.

He slowly opens his eyes at that, slightly turning his head to look at Bokuto. “We’re already talking,” he says with a lazy smirk.

Bokuto frowns comically and Kuroo’s urge to tease him grows even more. “I mean, I have something to tell you,” Bokuto tries again.

“Then tell me,” he says, holding back his laughter when Bokuto’s face turns into a pout. _Cute,_ he thinks.

“Can you at least pretend to be interested?”

Kuroo starts laughing at that, in the way that everyone always calls ugly but secretly loves, the sound of it echoing in the room. His eyes crinkle at the corners and his vision blurs, but he sees Bokuto fighting his own smile. Kuroo tugs at their still joined hands, urging Bokuto to come closer to him while he calms down. Bokuto relents and lets himself be pulled closer, smiling but still half pouting.

“Can I talk now?” he asks once Kuroo has calmed down. This time, he’s the one leaning over Kuroo, his free hand supporting him on the floor, while the other is resting on Kuroo’s stomach, their fingers still intertwined. 

“Never said you couldn’t,” he answers, but his smirk has turned into a soft smile by now, and there’s nothing teasing about his tone anymore. He’s amused, distractedly watching Bokuto’s hair fall in front of his eyes as the world seems to slow down around them. Nothing changes, not really, Kuroo is used to the closeness, to the look in Bokuto’s eyes, to the deafening sound of his heartbeat. Bokuto has started drawing patterns on his skin again, and Kuroo is used to that, too. 

He watches Bokuto open his mouth and hears him say, with all the certainty in the world, “I love you.” 

And nothing really changes after that. It’s still Kuroo, Bokuto, their tiny dorm room that they’ve shared for more than three years now, and the cicadas outside, the only proof that the world hasn’t melted yet.

“Really now?” Kuroo can’t help but tease, because he’s still Kuroo, and Bokuto is still Bokuto, and nothing ever really changes between them because they’ve always known they loved each other. 

Bokuto doesn’t seem offended and starts grinning at him, he uses their joined hands to poke him in the ribs. “You jerk, I’m being serious!”

“I know,” Kuroo laughs, wriggling under Bokuto until he stops poking him. He massages his side for a few seconds, but his eyes never leave Bokuto’s face, studying it. He brings his free hand up and gently puts a strand of hair behind Bokuto’s ear, even though it’s not exactly long enough for that. Bokuto doesn’t seem flustered, he’s looking at him, with the same big grin Kuroo has always seen on his face, and he relishes how natural the action is for them. “I love you too,” he says, a little breathlessly and maybe without as much bravery as Bokuto, but he means it just the same, and it’s enough for Bokuto’s smile to immediately brighten—his eyes twinkle with happiness and he’s shining so bright Kuroo almost has to look away.

Bokuto outright giggles and lets go of Kuroo’s hand to embrace him fully, his arms tightly encircling his waist. He nuzzles his nose in the crook of Kuroo’s neck, hugging him impossibly closer. Kuroo considers for a moment pushing him away, because as much as he loves Bokuto’s hugs, he thinks he might pass away from the heat soon. Everything around them feels fuzzy, except for their skins sticking together in a way that can only be described as gross, but Bokuto seems content, so Kuroo doesn’t bother to say anything. 

After a few seconds, Kuroo feels Bokuto’s lips curl against his neck, then move to form words, tickling him. “You know… I kinda knew already,” he says, amusement clear in his voice. He shifts to let go of Kuroo’s waist and support himself on his elbow instead, leaning over Kuroo again. “That you love me, I mean.”

“Shut up! I knew about you too,” Kuroo snorts.

“I knew that you knew!” Bokuto laughs, and Kuroo shoves him off playfully. They wrestle for a while, but soon find themselves lying on their back in their initial positions, laughing but breathless, and even more hot and sweaty than they were before that.

Bokuto doesn’t take long to sit up, he turns on himself to somewhat face Kuroo, but gets distracted by his hair. He squints to look at it, takes a strand of hair between his fingers and frowns, then tries to slick it back, but it immediately falls down on his forehead again. Kuroo observes him and chuckles to himself, the sound attracting Bokuto’s attention once again. He looks at him for a second, with this owlish look on his face that seems so much softer when his hair isn’t styled.

“I like your hair down like that,” Kuroo says as he sits up too, grunting when he feels his tank top sticking to his back even more than before. “It looks less stupid,” he adds with a smirk.

“My hair is really cool!” Bokuto protests. Kuroo only chuckles and stretches his arms lazily, he’s about to complain once again about the heat when he catches Bokuto’s gaze on him, thoughtful and intense. He waits a few seconds until Bokuto decides to speak, and when he does, his voice is more serious than Kuroo has ever heard it. “Hey Kuroo, what do we do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know I also love Akaashi and Tsukki right?” Bokuto asks, and Kuroo can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, I know.” Because how could he not? He’s spent most of his time in the last few years of his life looking at these three men and wondering how it was possible for a single heart to love this much. He’s looked at them, and he’s looked at the way they look at each other, and his heart has never felt so full. “I love them too.”

“Great taste, dude,” Bokuto says, completely ruining the moment, but it at least makes Kuroo snort. He has an easy smile on his face, looking more serene now that he’s sure Kuroo feels the same. “Man, I really want to tell them too.”

“You won’t?” Kuroo asks despite being pretty sure of the answer.

“Nah, they’d freak out,” Bokuto starts. He looks at the ceiling, contemplating what he should say next and finally settles on, “I’m just not good at not saying how I feel, y’know?”

“Yeah, I’m surprised it took you this long to say it,” Kuroo teases, pleased when he hears Bokuto’s mumbled “Shut up”. “But I think you’re right, they probably need more time than us.”

“So we wait?”

“We wait,” Kuroo confirms. “They’ll come to us whenever they’re ready.”

There’s a short silence and Kuroo sees Bokuto’s expression twitch into something a little too close to fear to his liking. He opens his mouth and says, his voice just a little too low for it to be normal for Bokuto. “What if they’re never ready?”

Kuroo feels his stomach knot up at the thought, and he knows Bokuto can probably see it on his face. He knows it’s a possibility, and a very plausible one, because as much as he loves them, he knows Tsukishima and Akaashi have a harder time letting go, being vulnerable. He crawls to Bokuto, and, once next to him, he takes Bokuto’s hand in his own, softly smiling at him.

“We’ll deal with it together, the four of us.” He squeezes Bokuto’s hand, searching for his eyes. “I can’t promise they’ll ever want us the way we want them, but we’re friends, we can figure this out together.”

Bokuto laughs softly, his face relaxed and his smile bright, the knot in Kuroo’s stomach loosens at the sight. Bokuto leans on his shoulder, once again making Kuroo feel like he’s on literal fire, and says, “We’ll wait, then.”

Kuroo lets his head fall on top of Bokuto’s, trying to regulate his body temperature by will alone. He focuses on the cicadas, on their old fan, on Bokuto’s breathing and on the lack of his own when he hears Bokuto say, “I really wanna kiss you.”

He exhales slowly and tries to ignore the bubble of happiness bursting inside of him. “But you won’t,” he declares more than he asks. He’s also entertained the thought of kissing Bokuto, but he knows how much of a bad idea it would be at the moment.

“Wouldn’t be fair, right?” he says, and there’s no disappointment, no impatience in his voice. “I’m fine with waiting, but the first thing I’ll do when they’re ready is kiss you.”

“That’s fine with me,” Kuroo chuckles. He waits a few seconds, just to see if Bokuto wants to add something, then says, “Hey, Bo?”

“Hm?”

“What was your idea about the bathtub again?”

Immediately, Bokuto takes his head off his shoulder and turns to look at him. Quickly, surprise gives way to understanding on his face, Bokuto smirks and Kuroo can feel his own smile turning sly. Bokuto starts to explain his plan: he talks about finding ice cubes and getting it into the dorms unnoticed, and it’s probably not their most elaborate plan, but Kuroo is not sure his brain is still functioning normally, so he thinks it’s the best idea ever.

Nothing really changes, nothing ever does in summer, but Bokuto is shining as bright as ever and he loves Kuroo, Akaashi, and Tsukishima, so Kuroo thinks it’s okay.

_fall._

October is nearing its end as Kuroo walks towards the bench Akaashi loves to study on so much. It’s a pretty normal bench in Kuroo’s eyes, but it’s close enough both to the dorms and to Akaashi’s favorite café on the campus for it to be convenient, and above everything, its main asset is the small fountain right next to it. It’s nothing spectacular—Kuroo wouldn’t even call it pretty—but Akaashi has often told him that the sound of running water helps him calm down.

Kuroo puts his hands in his pockets and walks faster. The days are still warm, but the evenings are starting to get cold again, and he has never dealt well with cold.

He walks for a few minutes and finally spots Akaashi sitting on the bench, already waiting for him. He’s looking at his phone, the scarf Tsukishima got him for his birthday the previous year neatly wrapped around his neck. The sun has long since set on Tokyo, but the campus lights illuminate Akaashi’s figure in a way that seems utterly familiar yet almost mystical to Kuroo, casting shadows on the face he’s spent so much time studying.

He opens his mouth to call out to him, but Akaashi seems to feel his presence; he looks up from his phone in Kuroo’s direction and smiles softly when he sees him. Kuroo jogs the last few meters between them and plops down next to him on the bench, an apologetic smile on his lips.

“Sorry, practice ran late again.”

“It’s no problem,” Akaashi says with a polite smile, making Kuroo’s stomach twist with guilt because he had probably been waiting for a long time already, and Kuroo had no way to tell him he’d be late. “Thank you for coming.”

Kuroo hums profusely at that, trying to read Akaashi’s face. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Not everyone is as sensitive to the cold as you, Kuroo-san.” Akaashi doesn’t let Kuroo complain about his remark and asks, “Where are Bokuto-san and Tsukishima-kun?”

“Probably arguing over what movie we’re going to watch tonight,” Kuroo says, remembering the conversation between the two men when he parted from them to meet with Akaashi. “You sure you don’t wanna come?”

“I would love to,” Akaashi sighs, looking afflicted, “but my roommate wants to go out with me tonight. A ‘bonding exercise’, apparently.” He’s started massaging his temples halfway through his sentence, making his glasses slide down his nose.

“Still trying to make up for the time he brought a girl home without noticing you were there?” Kuroo snorts at Akaashi’s distraught look.

“Yes, and I would love it if we could just forget the incident completely.”

“Maybe if you got back at him he’d stop trying so hard,” Kuroo says, bringing a hand to his chin in deep contemplation. He looks sideways at Akaashi and smirks. “Just bring someone to your room while he’s sleeping and—” He stops his sentence when he catches the glare Akaashi is sending him, and raising his hands in surrender, “Alright, I’m just sayin’!”

Kuroo snickers at the face Akaashi is making; he’s sighing again, looking already tired from his evening out, but Kuroo knows him well enough to see he’s not actually upset. “You know the dude from your modern literature class keeps looking at you, you should ask him,” he can’t help but add, trying not to laugh too much at Akaashi’s pained expression.

“Please stop,” Akaashi simply says, looking like he’s reconsidering all of the choices that led him to this exact conversation.

“Sorry,” Kuroo laughs lightly, because he still sees the amused glint in Akaashi’s eyes, hidden behind the apparent irritation.

Still, Kuroo doesn’t say anything else on the matter, because he can see something else is on Akaashi’s mind. It’s not exactly surprising, considering he asked Kuroo to meet him on this bench, for no apparent reason, but it’s especially showing in the way he seems to get lost in thoughts as soon as Kuroo stops talking. 

“So,” Kuroo starts, his voice calm and his body relaxed. “Why are we here?”

Akaashi inhales deeply and Kuroo feels a slight shift in the atmosphere around them. “I wanted to talk to you,” Akaashi says, before falling silent.

Kuroo doesn’t press him, doesn’t ask for anything else. He stays quiet and watches Akaashi, he watches the way he’s fidgeting with his hands, and how he looks up at the sky, as if it could give him the answer he’s searching for. He hears the sound of running water, the low rumble of the city in the evening, and if he listens hard enough, he can almost hear Akaashi thinking. Overthinking, maybe, but for once Kuroo thinks it might be something else. He seems to be searching for something, maybe the courage to say what’s on his mind, but he doesn’t rush, he takes his time, brow furrowed in concentration.

Kuroo watches as Akaashi’s face reflects every little emotion he’s feeling, from the nervousness in the twitch of his lips to the determination in his eyes, and a wave of affection for the young man washes over him. Not for the first time, Kuroo wonders when exactly Akaashi has become so comfortable with them, so comfortable with _him,_ that he doesn’t feel the need to always act collected anymore. 

He opens his mouth to speak, closes it again, fiddles with his fingers, a tight expression on his face. Anticipation and apprehension are mixed together on his features, and Kuroo knows he can’t do anything but wait, wait for Akaashi to be ready to speak his mind, and then simply be there for him. Still, knowing that he can’t erase by himself all the things cluttering Akaashi’s mind doesn’t stop him from wanting to reach out, to take Akaashi’s hands in his own and kiss every finger, if only to stop him from picking at them so much.

Finally, Akaashi takes a deep breath and looks up at the sky. “Do you ever feel like you’ve spent so much time looking at the stars that you forgot you were living on Earth?”

Kuroo stares at him, one, two, three seconds before surprise gives way to tenderness on his face. Akaashi isn’t looking at him, lost in his own thoughts, but he seems more relaxed now that the words are out.

“You know I’m more of a science kind of guy,” Kuroo starts, never looking away from Akaashi’s face. “I don’t always get it when you’re being poetic like that.”

Akaashi chuckles lowly in his throat, face still tilted towards the night sky, basked in the city lights. “I suppose you’re right,” he starts, a small smile on his lips. “Perhaps poetry isn’t always the best way to explain how the world works.”

“No, I think it’s nice,” Kuroo answers earnestly. “And maybe you could explain it to me?”

“It might take a while,” Akaashi laughs softly. He looks down at his hands, still fidgeting with them, more of a habit than a sign of anxiousness by now.

Kuroo lays his hand between them on the bench, palm turned towards the sky, a silent invitation, and says, “I’ve got all the time in the world.”

Akaashi doesn’t try to hide the fond look in his eyes, doesn’t hesitate when he sees Kuroo’s hand, open and inviting, but never forceful. Softly, as if not to disturb the delicate atmosphere surrounding them, he puts his hand on Kuroo’s, the feeling foreign and yet inexplicably familiar. 

Kuroo doesn’t waste one second in intertwining their fingers and drinks in the sight in front of him. Akaashi is looking at the sky again, his face suddenly free of worries as the autumn leaves fall around them with the same gentleness he wears on his face.

Kuroo takes the time to really feel the weight of Akaashi’s hand in his. Broader than Bokuto’s, yet more delicate, less calloused. _Setter hands,_ Kuroo thinks idly as he looks at them. It’s nothing like holding hands with Bokuto, it’s a new feeling, exhilarating and comforting at the same time. Kuroo wouldn’t mind getting used to it.

“Stars are nothing more than celestial bodies made of gasses, burning billions of kilometers away from us,” Akaashi says after a while, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “They’re unreachable, yet they burn bright enough to light up our way. I thought that some people could be like that, too. Bright, meant to be admired from afar.” He marks a pause, seemingly searching for his words, Kuroo gently squeezes his hand. “But what happens when you _do_ reach the stars? What happens when you realize stars are not the only thing you’re longing for anymore?”

A long silence follows Akaashi’s words, and Kuroo can almost see panic twisting his features. He squeezes his hand again, harder this time, and waits until Akaashi’s eyes are on him.

“I fell for Bokuto first, too.”

Panic, understanding, and relief flick before Akaashi’s eyes, a small smile creeps its way on his face. “It seems so simple when you say it like that,” he says with a laugh.

“Maybe because it is,” Kuroo says, attentively watching Akaashi’s face.

“Not to me,” Akaashi breathes out. “I never thought I could ever look at someone else the way I look at him, but before I could even realize it, I was already looking at Tsukishima-kun, I was already looking at you.” He takes a few seconds to think, and Kuroo lets him, simply listening in silence. After a moment, he says, “It scares me, how little control I have over my own feelings.”

“You’re scared, but you still reached out to me,” Kuroo says softly.

“I suppose I did,” Akaashi hums. “But the truth is, all of this is unknown to me, I don’t know where we’re going from there.” 

“I don’t think any of us have ever experienced that before,” Kuroo says, stroking Akaashi’s hand reassuringly. “It’s okay, we can figure it out together.”

“Kuroo-san.” Akaashi lowers his gaze to look at their still intertwined hands. “How are you not scared?”

“I know I’m not alone in this.” He smiles softly at him. “You know, I’m not like Bo, I can’t love as freely and as selflessly as him, I don’t think he even knows what fear is when it comes to love.” Akaashi chuckles next to him, a fond look on his face. “But I want to believe we’ll be okay. I think it’s okay too, not to know what’ll happen next.”

“Did you say that to Tsukishima-kun too?”

Kuroo laughs heartily at that, throwing his head back. It’s now his turn to look at the night sky, and if he’s being honest, he doesn’t understand why Akaashi kept looking at it like it was holding all the answers in the universe. It’s a starless sky, like it always is in Tokyo, but Kuroo couldn’t care less about the stars. They’re just celestial bodies made of gasses in the sky, billions of kilometers away from him, and they don’t have any answers for him. The three men he’s in love with on Earth do.

“I think Tsukki might need a little more time,” he finally answers.

“I apologize, but I think I’ll need it too.”

“I told you,” Kuroo says as he squeezes his hand, “I have all the time in the world.”

They fall silent after that, an odd feeling of peace surrounding them as they simply take the time to exist with each other, in this new yet familiar way Kuroo wants to learn. But as they bathe in the feeling, a loud voice suddenly startles them, bursting their bubble of comfort.

“Keiji!” the voice calls out from somewhere near them, making Akaashi sigh deeply. 

They wait in silence a few seconds, until Kuroo can hear footsteps coming closer to them. Finally, Kuroo recognizes the characteristic figure of Akaashi’s roommate as he comes into view. He smiles brightly at them and starts to jog towards the bench, apparently still full of energy despite the hour.

Kuroo takes a glance at where their hands are still intertwined between them and hesitates, not knowing if Akaashi would like for his roommate to see them like that. However, it seems that Akaashi realized what was on his mind, because he simply squeezes his hand tighter, waiting for the other man to join them on the bench. A small laugh loses itself in Kuroo’s throat, love beaming in his chest at the small gesture.

As he finally reaches them, the other man says, “Keiji, we’re gonna be late!”

“Please stick with Akaashi,” Akaashi says in his usual polite yet incredibly blunt tone, making Kuroo snort next to him.

“Oh come on, we live together!” the man complains, but the way he’s leaning against the bench, laughing freely, clearly says that he’s used to Akaashi’s behaviour. “You can use my given name too if you want.”

“I would rather not.” 

“Alright, that’s my cue to leave,” Kuroo laughs, finally letting go of Akaashi’s hand with a soft smile and just a tiny bit of regret. He stands up, feeling Akaashi’s loving gaze on him as he adjusts his coat. “Have a nice date, you two.”

 _“Kuroo-san,”_ Akaashi breathes out, the softness on his face quickly replaced by annoyance.

“Date?” the man asks, his head tilted to the side. He seems to realize something and steps closer to Kuroo, an alarmed expression on his face. “Woah dude, no, I’m not trying to steal your boyfriend, I swear!”

“No one is stealing anyone,” Akaashi sighs again before standing up as well. “Come on, let’s get going.” He turns towards Kuroo, the fondness on his face evident despite the exasperated facade he’s trying to maintain, and says, “Thank you, Kuroo-san, you gave me a lot to think about.”

The autumn wind rises around Kuroo, making him shiver as he watches Akaashi and his roommate disappear behind one of the buildings surrounding them. Slowly, just like the leaves falling from the trees during fall, things are starting to change for them, and Kuroo can’t wait to see where these changes are going to take them.

_winter._

“Okay, I’m leaving the rest to you!” Bokuto calls out as he opens the gym door, letting the icy air in. Kuroo shivers and instinctively tries to protect himself from the cold, shielding his torso with his arms, but it’s not very helpful. He really does hate winter. Unbothered by the freezing temperature, Bokuto turns around to look at them and says, “Thanks for cleaning up for me.”

Droplets of water are falling from his hair, still damp after his shower. Just like he always does around this time of the year, Kuroo wonders if Bokuto is even human, because no one should be this immune to the cold.

“Put your beanie on, airhead, you’ll catch a cold,” Kuroo says, still shivering. “And close the goddamn door!”

“Sure, sure,” Bokuto laughs, but he doesn’t make any move to do what Kuroo just told him. “See ya later!” He flashes them one last grin before sliding the door shut and disappearing in the cold.

Without the wind freezing him to the bone, Kuroo uncrosses his arms and sighs heavily. “I’m not taking care of him when he gets sick,” he says, more to himself than to Tsukishima, the only person still in the gym this late in the evening.

“Bokuto-san never gets sick,” Tsukishima answers mechanically, still picking volleyballs off the floor, but there’s a hint of irritation in his voice that makes Kuroo snort. He gets Tsukishima—Bokuto being so stupidly resistant to the cold pisses him off too.

They get back to work in silence, Tsukishima putting all the balls scattered on the floor back in the cart while Kuroo is busy folding the net. It’s something they’ve done thousands of times before, albeit a bit different since Bokuto doesn’t usually leave them on their own, but it’s still supposed to be normal, familiar even.

Kuroo looks up from the net between his hands to observe Tsukishima’s figure. At first glance, he doesn’t seem different from usual, but Kuroo knows him well enough to see how tense he is, how he’s purposely avoiding Kuroo’s eyes. He stops himself from sighing and heads towards the storage room. Nothing about this situation is normal, let alone familiar.

He puts the net in its place and stays in the storage room for a few minutes, trying to figure out what the best approach with Tsukishima is. 

Christmas was only three weeks ago, but so many things have changed since then that Kuroo feels like a whole year has passed. He sighs as he remembers how perfect things seemed to be that day. Tsukishima’s train had been cancelled at the last minute and when they realized he couldn’t go back to his family in Miyagi, Bokuto had decided it was their duty to make this Christmas in Tokyo the most amazing Christmas Tsukishima had ever lived. He had scoffed, told them it wasn’t that big of a deal, but Kuroo could see the genuine affection hidden behind his usual snark.

The whole day went amazingly well, they hopped from bookstores to cafés, they laughed together at the ridiculous amount of cream Bokuto had asked for in his drink, but not without pointing out that Tsukishima wasn’t much better. When evening came, they let Bokuto choose where they would eat and he had unsurprisingly chosen a yakiniku restaurant. Kuroo had eaten his dinner with his hand resting on Bokuto’s thigh, he had wrapped his scarf around Tsukishima’s neck once out of the restaurant, just to see him blush, even though he blamed it on the cold, and had held Akaashi’s hand while admiring the Christmas lights. Just like everything with them, everything had felt natural and _right,_ and under the Christmas lights, Kuroo could only think— only hope, that they were finally reaching the point where they could call days like this _dates_ out loud.

He thought, he really did, that the other men shared the same wish. Everything had seemed so perfect that day that he never would have guessed Tsukishima would suddenly take his distance with them. Christmas passed and took its magic with it, and when, only a few days later, Kuroo asked Tsukishima to visit a shrine with them on New Year’s Day, he had been met with a polite but extremely cold refusal. That refusal had been the first of a long list, Tsukishima’s attitude towards them since then being nothing but the cold, harsh reality that he was avoiding them, coated with a polite smile.

It wasn’t something easy, and many times Kuroo had seen Tsukishima’s usual behaviour trying to come back. Sometimes, Tsukishima would let a sarcastic comment slip at one of Kuroo’s provocations, would be just a little too slow to reject Bokuto’s hugs after a good play, would naturally gravitate towards Akaashi and lean on him, just a little. Yet every time Tsukishima seemed to fall back into old habits with them, something shifted, his face contorted with fear mixed with resolve and they were back to this cold, harsh reality. Almost as cold and harsh as winter outside the gym.

Kuroo had wondered, still wonders, what exactly caused this change. Maybe it had been presumptuous of him to assume Tsukishima’s feelings that day, to think things were about to change the way he wanted them to, but he believes he knows him well enough to see past the facade he often puts on, and he knows for sure that the day they spent together made Tsukishima _happy._

He sighs again and decides that there’s no need to make this more complicated than it already is. After years of friendship and a countless amount of time spent looking at the man he loves, Kuroo _knows_ Tsukishima, just as much as he knows Akaashi or Bokuto. The situation may be delicate, but it’s nothing they can’t handle, he hopes.

When he finally comes out of the storage room, a mop in hand, he’s surprised to see that Tsukishima has stopped halfway through his task and is now standing still beside the cart, a hand resting on it. Kuroo picks up one of the few balls still scattered on the floor and walks over.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly, making sure not to startle him.

Tsukishima meets his gaze, and for the first time since practice started, he doesn’t avert his eyes. In less than a few seconds, Tsukishima seems to analyze his options, with the same precision he has in volleyball, and says, his words seemingly innocent but his voice cutting, “Surely you’ve been feeling unwell, Kuroo-san.”

“What do you mean?” Kuroo asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.

“You’re generally more upfront when you have something to say.”

“Hah…” Kuroo says, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly with the hand that’s not holding the volleyball. “You noticed.”

 _“Please,”_ Tsukishima clicks his tongue, irritation clear in his voice. “Even Yamaguchi is a better liar than Bokuto-san.”

Kuroo chuckles at the comment because, admittedly, letting Bokuto take care of making up an excuse to leave early wasn’t the subtlest way he could have gone about it. 

“If I’d told you to meet with me so we could talk,” Kuroo starts, a delicate smile on his lips. He looks at the volleyball between his hands, then at Tsukishima, and throws it at him without force. “Would you have come?”

Tsukishima catches the ball with ease. He opens his mouth, closes it again, and stays silent, the response more than enough for Kuroo. He moves around Tsukishima and goes to lean against the wall, his arms crossed and his posture relaxed, almost lazy. He’s now completely facing Tsukishima, who’s still holding tightly the volleyball in his hands, and still silent.

Kuroo looks fondly at him, dimly aware that it’s probably not the most appropriate reaction he could have, but ironically enough, as snarky and difficult as he might be, he feels a lot closer to Tsukishima in this moment than he has in weeks. Despite the reluctance in his attitude, it doesn’t go unnoticed to Kuroo that Tsukishima was the first one to bring up the issue. Maybe, Kuroo thinks, Tsukishima is more willing to have this conversation than Kuroo thought he would be.

“Why are you avoiding us?” he asks at last, his voice ever so normal. Tsukishima doesn’t flinch, but his grip on the ball tightens, his knuckles go white.

“I’m not—” he starts, but stops himself almost immediately. He licks his lips slowly, worries his bottom lip, seemingly weighing his words, and says, “I’ve been busy.”

Kuroo simply lifts an eyebrow, not moving from his position against the wall, unimpressed. “Yeah, how about you tell me the truth now,” he says, staring directly at Tsukishima. When Tsukishima doesn’t say anything, Kuroo sighs and uncrosses his arms. He shifts his weight on his feet and leans a bit more on the wall, his laid back attitude at the opposite of Tsukishima’s sharp edges and tense shoulders. “Listen, I don’t really understand what’s going on, but if we did something wrong, if _I_ did something, you have to say it because I can’t—”

“That’s not it,” Tsukishima cuts him off sharply. Then, in a softer, lower voice, “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Kuroo smiles at him again, even though Tsukishima isn’t really looking. “Then what is it?”

Once again, Tsukishima falls silent. Kuroo doesn’t mind. His eyes never leave Tsukishima’s figure, his gaze follows along the tense muscles of his arms, all the way to his bony hands, still gripping the ball tight, the digits fidgeting with it, barely noticeable. There’s something restless about Tsukishima in this moment, the walls protecting him he’s long ago let fall with them but suddenly built again three weeks ago are trying not to collapse as Tsukishima’s mind searches for a logical response to the situation. Kuroo can see, underneath all of that, the desire to be seen; it makes Tsukishima look more vulnerable than he’s ever seen him.

He knows Tsukishima, sometimes he still misjudges the situation, but he’s learned him, has learned when to push, and when to wait. He figures this time, it’s probably the latter. So he waits. He waits, his eyes lingering on Tsukishima, in what he hopes is a comforting presence. At long last, he sees Tsukishima’s jaw unclench, and Kuroo fully realizes the efforts Tsukishima is making to let the words out.

“I’m just not cut out for this,” he spits out, with more resignation than bite in his voice. “For all of this. There’s nothing we can do.” He looks at Kuroo, as if waiting for him to understand the underlying meaning of his words. Kuroo feels something twist in his guts at the painful realization that he can’t read Tsukishima’s mind. Tsukishima’s eyes scrut him, waiting for a reaction, but when he doesn’t get what he wants, he lets out a sharp breath and averts his eyes. “Nevermind, it doesn’t matter now.”

Tsukishima turns on his heel and lets the volleyball fall in the cart, the sudden movement making Kuroo realize he has yet to say something. Instinctively, he moves closer to Tsukishima but stops himself far enough not to make him feel cornered.

“Tsukki, wait!” he calls out when Tsukishima starts to walk away. Softly, he says, “Wait, what do you mean? What aren’t you cut out for?” This time again, Tsukishima refuses to look at him, and Kuroo hopes he’s not wrong to think this might be the moment to push a bit more. “Tsukki, please,” he tries with all the sincerity he’s capable of, “I just want to understand.”

Tsukishima gulps audibly, he’s still facing away from Kuroo, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to run away anymore. “For this… For this _thing_ between us. It’s just—” he exhales slowly, shakily, his fists clenched at his sides. “It was _fine,”_ he snaps, harsher than before, “but then Christmas came and I just…” he trails off on the end, Kuroo can feel his heart in his throat.

“Did you not like it?” he asks, his voice less assured than he would like it to be.

There’s a short silence where Kuroo can’t hear anything except for his own heart thumping against his ribcage, apprehension coiling in his guts. He's pretty sure neither of them are breathing at this moment.

“I loved it,” Tsukishima admits quietly. “I did, but I can’t— It felt so—” Tsukishima fumbles over his words, the composure he’s trying to maintain crumbling under this uncharacteristic lack of eloquence. He sighs, the sound almost watery, tries to calm himself down. “So real.”

Kuroo feels relief rush through his blood. He lets himself enjoy the feeling for less than two seconds before focusing back on Tsukishima, giving him his unwavering attention. Tsukishima seems more composed, but he still looks like his mind is caught in a storm of thoughts he hasn’t voiced.

“Tsukki…” Kuroo starts after a while, low enough not to disturb the weird atmosphere in the gym. “Are you scared?” Tsukishima doesn’t answer, keeps looking pointedly away from him. It doesn’t exactly surprise Kuroo, but he still wishes Tsukishima could be less difficult about it. “It’s okay to be scared, and it’s okay to—” Kuroo stops his sentence when he notices Tsukishima’s shoulder tensing even more than before. “It’s always been real to me,” he tries instead, hoping for some kind of reaction.

“Don’t say that,” Tsukishima immediately snarls, his head snapping to look at him. “Don’t act like some mighty Mister Know-It-All,” he bites, then marks a pause. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

For one second, Kuroo’s eyes open wide, surprised by the sudden anger in Tsukishima’s voice. Then, slowly, deliberately, he folds his arms, his brow furrowed. He watches the way Tsukishima looks at him, expectant. “See, that’s why I didn’t want to have Bo talking to you,” he starts, serious enough to provoke a slight change in Tsukishima’s expression. He raises a doubtful eyebrow and deadpans, “If you’re done being a bitch maybe we could talk normally.”

Kuroo has to bite the inside of his cheek not to laugh at how bewildered Tsukishima looks like that, eyes wide open, lips slightly parted, body frozen in place. The blond curls framing his face, soft and dishevelled from hours of practice, make him look adorable, almost like cotton candy. Kuroo can’t quite believe it’s the same man who snapped at him a few seconds earlier, his words as biting as the winter wind. Even now, he thinks the image isn’t totally out of place. As harsh and unforgiving as it is, winter always looks softer coated in snow. He wonders if Tsukishima would kill him for thinking that.

Tsukishima chuckles quietly, anger and surprise gone from his features, and Kuroo lets a small smile spread across his lips. “Bokuto-san can take it,” Tsukishima says, a smirk on his lips. This time, Kuroo hears the unspoken _“You don’t have to protect him.”_

“I know,” he says sincerely.

Tsukishima’s smile falters a bit; he inhales deeply and says, “I’m sorry about what I said.”

Kuroo’s heart soars when he sees the myriad of emotions reflecting in Tsukishima’s eyes. With as much love as he can muster in a sentence, he says, “Just talk to me Tsukki, please.”

He can see the way Tsukishima considers him, the hesitancy and the fear in his eyes. Brick by brick, slowly, steadily, Kuroo sees Tsukishima undo the walls he built around him, leaving him only flesh and bone before his eyes.

“I don’t get it,” Tsukishima says softly, low enough that Kuroo almost doesn’t catch it. “I don’t know where my place is,” he stops for a second, in an attempt to regain control of himself. “I don’t belong in this. Akaashi-san, Bokuto-san, you, you all have each other but… you don’t _need_ me.” For once, Tsukishima’s words lack any bite. There’s no accusation, no snark, just resignation and acceptance.

Kuroo stays silent as he processes Tsukishima’s words. He looks at him, a pained expression on his face, “Tsukki…” 

“I don’t need your pity,” Tsukishima warns, his voice almost cutting on the edge.

Kuroo hears the warning in his voice. Slowly, he breathes in, tries to regulate his own heartbeat, to bring the situation back to normal, as much as possible. When he speaks again, he’s proud to realize that his voice isn’t different from usual. If it’s just slightly softer, Tsukishima doesn’t point it out.

“You’re right, I don’t,” Kuroo declares, his eyes analyzing every reaction he’s eliciting in Tsukishima. “Or rather, I don’t need you to return whatever feelings I may have.” He shifts his weight on one leg, stretches lazily his arms before letting one of his hands rest on his hip, his nonchalant attitude almost a provocation. “I’ve got good friends, and a great family, I love what I’m studying and I have Kenma, which is definitely a plus.” He watches Tsukishima trying to get a hold on his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest too jerky to be natural. “You’re right,” he concedes once again, “we’re our own persons, and we don’t need each other to be happy. That’d be pretty fucked up if we did,” he adds like an afterthought, and to his surprise he hears Tsukishima chuckle weakly at that. He smiles fondly at him as he continues, “But you know, I don’t think it really matters. What if I don’t need Akaashi and Bo? I want them. Who cares if I don’t need you when I want you?”

He almost sees the moment the air gets punched out of Tsukishima’s lungs, his irregular breathing stops abruptly and there’s a faint shade of pink on his stunned face.

“I want you,” he clarifies once again, just in case, “but unlike you, I won’t assume anything. So you tell me Tsukki, what do you want?”

Astonishingly slowly, Tsukishima opens his mouth and says, voice thick with emotion, “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay too, not knowing,” Kuroo says, a comforting smile on his lips. “I’m not asking you to answer right now, just to think about it. I won’t assume, and I’d never force you to do something you don’t want, and you know neither would Bo and Akaashi,” he continues, searching for Tsukishima’s eyes. “So if you’re not ready, if you need time, if you need space, if you need to stay away from us— just for a while, you have to tell us.

“Because the thing is, no matter how hard you try to ignore it, this _thing,_ these feelings between all of us, they won’t just go away. Whatever they are, they’re here and one day we’ll have no choice but to face them, no matter what happens next.” Tsukishima’s eyes are now locked with his, and Kuroo feels almost bare in front of him. There’s an intensity to Tsukishima’s vulnerability that Kuroo would never have expected, but as unsettling as it is, it fuels him, makes him want to match him. “Even if nothing comes out of it in the end, even if we end up staying friends and just friends, I know we’ll be okay,” he says confidently, looking directly in these honey eyes. “But I won’t let us drift apart because we can’t talk to each other.”

There’s finality in Kuroo’s words, an unshakable determination that makes Tsukishima break eye contact first, laughing faintly. When he looks back at Kuroo again, he looks lighter, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

“Okay, I will,” he says, the corner of his mouth turned up, just a little.

Kuroo smiles genuinely at him and exhales a breath he’s been holding for too long now, relief flooding over him too. He looks at the few balls still scattered on the floor from earlier, then at the cart next to them.

“C’mon, let’s clean up,” he says before going back to work, not even waiting for Tsukishima’s answer.

Tsukishima nods once and joins him, the atmosphere around them finally familiar again.

Outside, winter is still raging, the bitter wind making the trees fold unter its force. But just like every year, Kuroo knows that after the storm only stays an immaculate layer of snow, inviting and promising. As beautiful as it is, Kuroo has never been very fond of winter, and he can’t wait to see what spring has in store for him.

_spring._

The morning sun warms Kuroo’s face in a pleasant way, offering a nice contrast against the still-chilly wind. He closes his eyes and tilts his head up, appreciating the weather after one of the coldest winters he had to go through. He lets himself enjoy the feeling of grass underneath his hands, each blade tickling pleasantly his skin.

When he opens them again, his eyes fall on Tsukishima, sitting on the grass just like him, his long legs folded under himself. He’s not paying attention to Kuroo, or to anything besides the notes in his hands, looking at them like he’s trying to decrypt them. Kuroo turns his gaze to Bokuto, lying on the grass next to him in a starfish position, unsurprisingly taking up more space than them. Kuroo chuckles at the happy smile plastered on his friend’s face.

Without even thinking about it, Kuroo tears out a handful of grass and nonchalantly drops it on Bokuto’s face. Immediately, Bokuto opens round, owlish eyes, surprised by the sensation, and Kuroo can’t help but snort at his reaction. When he realizes that Kuroo is responsible for the grass on his face, he sits up and opens his mouth to say something, but Kuroo’s hands are full of grass again, and before he can do anything about it Kuroo has already thrown it in his face.

He cackles loudly when he sees Bokuto trying to spit out all the grass and dirt in his mouth, laughing so carelessly that he doesn’t immediately notice the look Bokuto is sending him. Soon enough, he feels a broad hand gripping his ankle, pulling on his leg in one go to make him fall on his back. His laughter dies in his throat as he feels his back hit the ground, Bokuto suddenly hovering over him, strands of grass still stuck in his hair. 

“That was my mouth!” Bokuto protests, frowning but amusement gleaming in his eyes.

“Really now?” Kuroo answers, trying his best not to laugh too obviously, “I didn’t no—”

Bokuto’s hand is suddenly in his face, with an impressive quantity of grass he’s trying to shove into Kuroo’s mouth, while he’s using the rest of his body to restrain Kuroo’s movements. Kuroo barely manages to dodge his attack, but he still ends up with dirt in his hair and ear. He tries to push Bokuto away, laughing and wrestling with him, when Tsukishima’s voice catches them off guard.

“Dogs urinate on grass,” he informs them flatly, not even looking up from his notes.

Tsukishima’s comment and tone make Kuroo break into a fit of laughter while Bokuto groans above him, the two of them attracting the attention of the students passing by the small park they’ve decided to sit down in.

Eventually, Bokuto rolls off of him, choosing instead to plop down on the ground once again, this time on his stomach, vaguely looking in the direction of one of the campus buildings. Kuroo sits up, trying to get all of the grass out of his ear as Tsukishima looks at him over the rim of his glasses, judgemental.

“What’s Akaashi doing,” Bokuto mumbles, his chin propped on his hands. “His class should be over by now.”

“He told me he had to see his professor regarding a paper,” Tsukishima informs them.

“When did you see him?” Kuroo asks.

“This morning before practice.”

Bokuto sits up, his interest suddenly picked. “This morning?”

“How come you saw Akaashi this early in the morning?” Kuroo adds, exchanging a knowing smile with Bokuto. “Could it be…”

Bokuto snickers when Tsukishima’s face flushes red, his grip on his notes tightening. Kuroo can barely contain his proud smirk. “It’s not like that,” Tsukishima says, fixing awkwardly his glasses on his nose. “I just happened to meet him at the door before leaving.”

 _“Sure,”_ Bokuto says, wiggling his eyebrows when he meets Tsukishima’s offended face. Kuroo bursts out laughing at his expression, Bokuto soon joining him.

“Are you two importunating Tsukishima-kun again?” a voice suddenly asks from above where they’re laid out on the ground.

“‘Kaashi!” Bokuto exclaims happily.

“We would never,” Kuroo says, a smirk still on his lips.

Akaashi looks at both of them, clearly skeptical, “You have grass in your hair.”

It’s Tsukishima’s turn to snicker when Bokuto and Kuroo try to take the last reluctant strands out of their hair. Akaashi simply flashes Tsukishima an apologetic smile and settles down with them carefully, making sure not to spill the coffee he’s holding.

Akaashi’s arrival finally makes Tsukishima put his notes away, giving the other men his attention. They chat idly for a while, Bokuto hogging most of the conversation as usual, talking happily about practice, telling Akaashi what happened while he wasn’t there, or complaining about the taste of grass in his mouth. They listen to him, Akaashi and Kuroo occasionally joining the conversation, but Kuroo knows, sees it in their eyes, that they all notice the way Tsukishima instinctively starts picking at his fingers.

When the conversation dies down, they all naturally turn their gaze to Tsukishima, different levels of comfort, curiosity and patience in their eyes. Tsukishima shifts a little under the sudden attention, probably feeling a bit uncomfortable, but the determination in his eyes makes Kuroo smile. Surprisingly, it’s Akaashi who starts talking again first, his voice calm and patient.

“I believe you had something to tell us, Tsukishima-kun.”

Tsukishima exhales slowly under their caring eyes. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, ponders on what to say, and faster than Kuroo expected him to, settles on, “It’s about the… the _thing.”_ Tsukishima noticeably cringes at his wording, and Kuroo has to bite down on his bottom lip not to smile at Akaashi’s perplexed expression and Bokuto’s round eyes.

“What’s the thing?” Bokuto asks naturally.

Tsukishima sputters something none of them quite catch, making Bokuto tilt slightly his head to the side.

Kuroo decides to take pity on Tsukishima when he sees the colors quickly spreading on his cheeks and says, “We’re the thing.” Bokuto and Akaashi immediately look at him, equally puzzled. “You know,” he says, gesturing vaguely at the middle of their poorly formed circle. “The thing between us.”

“I see…” Akaashi says, or questions, Kuroo thinks he’s not quite sure about it himself.

“Oh! Our relationship!” Bokuto declares triumphantly.

Tsukishima coughs loudly to attract their attention, fidgeting with his glasses to regain some kind of composure. “Yeah, that’s it. Our relationship,” he admits reluctantly. “In the past few months I… thought about it, a lot. And I think it’s time that I— huh. Talk. About it, I guess.” The colors of Tsukishima’s face are spreading faster and faster, frustration and embarrassment twisting it. “God,” he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is pathetic.”

Kuroo opens his mouth, ready to nudge Tsukishima in the right direction, but this time again, it’s Akaashi who talks first, a resolute sense of purpose in his eyes.

“Tsukishima-kun,” he says, putting his hand on Tsukishima’s. He waits until Tsukishima’s eyes are on him and offers him a small smile. “I too have some things to say on the matter, would you like me to go first?”

Kuroo sees hesitation pass before Tsukishima’s eyes. He gulps, then answers a strangled, “Please.”

Akaashi retracts his hand slowly, but not without squeezing Tsukishima’s once first. His hands find their place again around his cup of coffee, nothing like the way he twists his fingers when he’s anxious. He inhales deeply, a content smile on his face, Kuroo can’t help but feel proud of how relaxed and calm he seems to be.

“I’ve been thinking a lot as well. Overthinking, maybe,” he adds, his tone lighter. “About my feelings, and about what I’m looking for. To some extent, I think I’ve always known what I wanted, but sometimes,” he looks directly at Kuroo, deep blue eyes filled with warmth and love, “it takes a bit of external help to admit it to yourself.”

Kuroo lets his smile take over his face, still attentively listening to Akaashi’s words. He hears his doubts and his fears in them, but also the fervent determination underneath. Something catches Kuroo’s eye at the corner of his vision, without thinking about it, his eyes wander to Bokuto and he’s surprised to find him frowning, looking deliberately at Akaashi’s hands. He follows Bokuto’s gaze and realizes that Akaashi is still holding his half empty cup of coffee.

Quickly, Kuroo adds up the maths in his head. Akaashi always drinks one coffee before leaving his room in the morning, and considering that he’s not glaring, or snapping at them for being too loud, it can only mean that he didn’t skip it. Then, especially when he has morning lectures, he takes his second coffee of the day on his way to class, preferably a large size. He takes the third one right after his class, at the café besides the building where he has most of his classes, except the one he’s holding is still steaming, which can only mean that he bought a fourth one on his way to meet with them.

Bokuto must have reached the same conclusion, because he’s already leaning towards Akaashi, his tongue peaking out of his mouth in concentration. He grabs lightly Akaashi’s cup of coffee, gently taking it out of his hands. Akaashi complies without even noticing, the words still flowing out of his mouth. The easiness of the interaction makes Kuroo smile fondly at them.

Bokuto retracts his arm, a triumphant smile on his face, looking down on the offending coffee as if he had just won against it at arm wrestling. He brings the cup to his lips, still elated, and takes a huge sip. Immediately, he winces, a violent shudder running through his body as his expression twitches into one of disgust. Kuroo has to bite down hard on his lips not to wheeze at the scene.

Without even looking at him, Bokuto sends one last glare of the coffee before handing it to Kuroo. Mechanically, Kuroo grabs it and watches as Bokuto focuses on Akaashi once again. He smiles to himself and shakes his head, then does the same as he brings the black coffee to his lips.

“Today, I feel confident in my decision,” Akaashi says, his now empty hands resting in his lap. “It still scares me, knowing there are some things that I simply cannot control, and that this is one of them, but I think it’s worth it,” he looks up, then slowly moves his gaze from Bokuto, to Kuroo, to Tsukishima. When their eyes meet, Kuroo only sees an ocean of love in them. “I think we’re worth it. More than anything, I want to try.”

A long silence follows Akaashi’s words where none of them seem to really know what to say. Kuroo himself isn’t really sure, but when he sees agitation slowly taking over Akaashi’s features, his hands tightening on his lap, he decides he has to do something.

“I’m scared,” Tsukishima blurts out before he can say anything. He’s fixedly looking at the ground, refusing to make eye contact, but this time Kuroo isn’t worried about it. “I’m not used to wanting things that are simply too big for me, it’s useless.” He stops to steady his breathing, the tip of his ears bright red. “But somehow, I ended up wanting you. All of you.” He bows his head, showing off the flushed skin on his neck, a vibrant contrast with the blond locks of his hair. He inhales sharply, lets out a laugh without humour, “It’s pathetic how the possibility of this dream becoming real terrifies me even more than wanting something not made for me.”

“Tsukki,” Bokuto says, his voice serious and caring. “What do you want?”

When Tsukishima speaks again, he looks like the word is being ripped out of his chest against his will, a strangled, almost inaudible _“You”_ reaching them.

“Okay,” Bokuto whispers. “Do you want to try?”

This time, Tsukishima only nods once, every muscle in his body tense. Kuroo feels a huge grin slowly splitting his face in half as his brain registers the situation, and judging by the looks on Bokuto and Akaashi’s faces, he’s not the only one.

Tsukishima exhales slowly, his body relaxing slightly but his face still flushed, and the air around them lightens, the last remnants of tension slowly dissipating.

“Oh, by the way,” Bokuto says, back to his usual self, if not a littler antsier, intense golden eyes looking back and forth between Akaashi and Tsukishima, a huge grin plastered on his face. Suddenly, Kuroo feels one of Bokuto’s strong hands gripping firmly his bicep and basically dragging him on the ground. He gasps and promptly worries about the grass stains he’s going to find on his clothes, but before he can complain about it, he’s flush against Bokuto, his arm around his shoulders. “We love you too.”

He didn’t think it was possible, but Tsukishima grows impossibly redder at Bokuto’s words, Akaashi laughs softly at the sight, but his face is also pinker than usual. Kuroo grunts and shoves Bokuto away, then brushes dust off his clothes. 

_“Not_ the way I would’ve gone about it,” he says, looking pointedly at Bokuto. “But yeah, and we want you.” He pauses to look at Akaashi and Tsukishima, his eyes soften. “That is, if you’ll have us.”

After a beat of silence, Tsukishima groans loudly, sounding genuinely pained. Kuroo suspects half of it is for the dramatics.

“Seriously,” Tsukishima grits out of his teeth. “Why is it so easy for you.”

“Huh?” Bokuto cocks his head to the side as Kuroo exchanges an amused look with Akaashi. “I mean, it’s just us? We already hang out all the time and ‘Kaashi and you basically come over every night for movies and all. Being together is basically the same except for like, kisses and stuff.”

There’s a candid sincerity in Bokuto’s voice that seems to soften even Tsukishima’s sharpest edges. When he speaks again, his words lack any bite. “It could ruin everything.”

Instinctively, Kuroo moves closer to Tsukishima and takes his hand, softly rubbing the skin with his thumb. “I have more faith in us than that. Besides,” he sees Tsukishima lift his head to look at him directly, probably the first time since the conversation started. Kuroo smiles and points at Bokuto and Akaashi with his head, waits until Tsukishima follows his gaze. “Keiji is right, we’re worth the risk.”

He lets go of Tsukishima’s hand when he sees the small, genuine smile on his lips. A long, comfortable silence follows his sentence, Tsukishima still smiling, looking content with their situation for the first time in a long time, Bokuto’s beaming aura somehow even brighter than it usually is, and Akaashi’s face still a pretty shade of pink, probably due to the use of his given name. 

Pride grows in Kuroo’s chest when he looks at them like this, he always knew they’d be okay in the end.

“What do we do now?” Akaashi eventually asks.

“This!” Bokuto loudly exclaims.

In one second, he’s coming at Kuroo at full force. Before he can even register what is happening, he’s being tackled to the ground by the strongest person he knows, Tsukishima’s body not even cushioning the impact since he had the presence of mind to move away from Kuroo the second Bokuto started moving.

Kuroo groans loudly at the pain in his back. He opens his eyes, ready to ask Bokuto _what the fuck_ was he thinking about, but the look on Bokuto’s face makes the words die in his throat.

He’s stuck there, mouth agape and back hurting—he thinks faintly he probably has a displaced vertebra, looking at Bokuto’s hopeful eyes. He sees it all in them, the hope, the love, the wait, the anticipation, the sheer happiness he’s feeling. He thinks back to this one afternoon of summer almost one year ago, the one afternoon that changed everything yet nothing at all.

He hears the unspoken _“We’re here now.”_

“Hi,” Bokuto mutters, his voice thick with emotion.

“Hi,” he says back, just in time before Bokuto closes the gap between them and kisses him.

It’s soft and tender at first, but Kuroo isn’t surprised to find out that Bokuto kisses just like he lives, full of vibrant light. It’s still chaste, but it electrifies him. He feels his skin prickle with Bokuto’s raw energy, his mind fuzzing with the need to do _something,_ anything. So he kisses back harder, the action complicated enough because of the smile he can’t seem to wipe off his face, but made even harder thanks to Bokuto’s occasional giggles.

“Seriously?” he hears Tsukishima’s voice say. “Right now?”

The comment makes Bokuto break the kiss and laugh airily, leaving Kuroo completely breathless and with a stupidly wide smile on his face. He gets off of him and hastily helps him sit up, Kuroo notes that he has at least the decency to look bashful when Kuroo groans in pain.

However, as soon as Kuroo is back in his initial position, Bokuto has already darted towards Akaashi and Tsukishima, grinning brighter than ever.

“Tsukki! Your turn!”

“My _what,”_ Tsukishima asks, looking comically offended. It at least makes Kuroo laugh out loud, which earns him a glare from Tsukishima.

“Can I kiss you?” Bokuto asks hopefully.

Tsukishima once again flushes red at the question, and Kuroo finds himself thinking that he wouldn’t mind this becoming a habit.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi scolds gently. Bokuto turns to look at him, still waiting for an answer. “You already kissed Kuroo-san first, don’t you think it would be a bit unfair if you got to kiss Tsukishima-kun too?”

Bokuto’s hair almost visibly deflates at Akaashi’s words, making Kuroo snort.

“I’m just over there Akaashi,” Kuroo calls out with an exaggerated wink. It somehow makes Bokuto stop pouting and he starts nodding eagerly.

“Very funny Kuroo-san, but the same goes for you.”

At some point, Tsukishima has regained his composure and is now smirking, clearly getting where Akaashi is heading.

“Akaashi-san is right, I didn’t expect you two to go for such underhanded tactics,” he taunts, the smirk never leaving his face. “How pitiful for athletes.”

Pricked in their ego, Bokuto and Kuroo immediately start frowning.

“Fine,” Kuroo concedes. “Akaashi, what do you suggest?”

“Clearly, the only logical solution is that Tsukishima-kun and I kiss first.”

“Okay, okay,” Bokuto urges them, abandoning his offended facade. “But hurry up, I want my kiss too.”

“No,” Tsukishima deadpans. “Not everyone is satisfied with kissing in the dirt like wild animals.”

“Tsukki,” Bokuto whines, but it only makes Tsukishima and Akaashi laugh. _“Akaashi!_ You betrayed me!”

“What kind of person would I be if I didn’t respect my partners’ wishes?” Akaashi laughs lightly as he gathers his things before standing up. Kuroo’s heart soars at the word _partners._ “I need to go get another coffee anyway,” he looks purposely at Kuroo. “Someone took mine.”

“I’m going with you,” Tsukishima says, standing up as well. “I’m getting tired of sitting on the ground.”

And with that, they leave behind an incredulous Bokuto and a widely amused Kuroo, chatting and walking towards one of the nearest cafés.

“Kuroo…” Bokuto starts, his voice far away.

“Bokuto,” Kuroo acknowledges.

 _“Ugh,_ I can’t believe we’re in love with them!”

Kuroo bursts out laughing at that, almost missing the fond look Bokuto gives him at the action.

Almost immediately, Bokuto stands up and starts jogging in the direction Akaashi and Tsukishima took. “C’mon, we have to catch up with them!” he yells over his shoulder at Kuroo.

Kuroo only laughs again, quietly this time, and looks at the sky. It’s a peaceful morning in Tokyo, the sun warms his skin and the chilly spring wind makes him shiver.

On this spring day, in the city he’s always known, and for the first time of his life, Kuroo can think of the three men sharing his life as his boyfriends.

As much as Bokuto likes to say so, Kuroo knows it’s probably not as easy as he seems to think. They have to set out rules, boundaries, and they still have to learn each other in so many different ways. He knows there’ll be highs and lows, moments when it’ll seem like it’s all for nothing and so many others where they’ll feel invincible, before everything finally falls into place. It’s a whole new world they’ll have to explore together, but Kuroo can’t wait to do so with them.

He looks at the bright blue sky and thinks that maybe, just maybe, if Bokuto burns like the sun in the summer sky, if Akaashi reminds him of the autumn leaves falling from the trees, if Tsukishima is the harsh and unforgiving winter coated with snow that makes everything look like cotton candy, then Kuroo might be the spring wind, bringing comfort and change with him, threading the seasons together.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!
> 
> it was my first time writing akaashi and tsukki and i struggled a lot with tsukki, but i still had a lot of fun writing this fic so i hope it was still nice to read! i'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/martialarcs) so if you feel like it come talk hq to me ❤


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